“Tame me! Tame your slave… ” Salima cried. Her hips rotating wildly.
Frank knew the cue. They have done this many times before. The night was just beginning to unfold. He stood up, dropped the ice cube. He walked over to the table. His hand clamped over the leather whip. A smile danced on her face.
“Please, master! Have mercy!” she moaned. Her eyes was ablaze. The wild cat in her emerged.
Frank drew the leather straps, testing the strength of the whip as he advanced towards her.
“Frank, please… Please…”
“It is Master, damn you!” Frank exploded. Lashing out the whip, it struck her across her shoulder. She didn’t make a sound. Her eyes shot fire. And her panting grew. Her waist rotated in circles. She raised her veiled eyes to him, her voice low and throaty-
“Is this all you’ve got, master?” a smile danced across her face.
In fury at her jabs, Frank swung the whip again, again. This time he struck harder. The more he flogged, the wilder she danced. Her red hair flew around her shoulders.
“Harder!” she commanded.
Frank struck again and again.
“Harder… I say. Show me the man in you.” she screamed. Her breasts stood in pointy peaks. Desire burnt in the depths of her eyes.
“Whip me! Harder…”
Frank wasn’t sure anymore who was the master and who was slave. He knew he was drowning in the depth of her eyes. His bulge throbbed as he looked at her wriggling against the strains. Her breasts jiggling, her waist grinding.
The whip dropped from his hand. His hand went to his buttons and quickly pulled them free. He yanked the shirt out. He heard it rip but he didn’t care. Her eyes were on him. They held a promise. A promise he knows very well that she would keep.
How long has it been, 2 weeks 3 days that he had bought this sex slave. These prostitutes didn’t last more than two days in his hands before he lost interest. He was always up for a fresh kill. Yet, 2 weeks and 3 days has gone and he still wasn’t tired of this one. Salima was too hot for him to handle. She was bound but she had him in chains. His mind was chains. His dick was in chains. He was in the web of her spell. Then, he looked up and saw a knowing smile dancing on her face. He knew he was dealing with a Delilah but he didn’t care. This must have been how Samson had felt. Women would always be the fall of men.
In two quick strides, he got to her. Jerked her face towards him and took her in his mouth. His tongue fought to control her. To tame her. His tongue stroked and turned, seeking to subdue her.
But even in chains, she was no slave. Pushing her body forward, her breasts pressed against his bare chest, her turgid nipples pressed against his bare chest. She wriggled, pressing closer. Frank took a sharp breath. She laughed. A low throaty laughter before her tongue dove deeper. Licking, teasing. Her tongue wriggled in every corner of his mouth like a master football that knows his dribbles.
By the time, she raised her head, Frank was panting. His bulge was hurting. His legs were trembling.
“It’s about time you untied me, master” she purred. “Let this dance begin.”
The whip slipped from Frank’s hand.
To be continued..
READ ALSO: BLUE BALLS
WRITTEN BY CHIOMA NGAIKEDI